


The morning after

by When_Tommy_Met_Alfie



Series: When Tommy met Alfie AU [12]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Idiots in Love, M/M, My Questionable Humor, Season/Series 01 AU, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, so in love, wtma AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-01-22
Packaged: 2019-03-07 17:34:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13439793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie/pseuds/When_Tommy_Met_Alfie
Summary: Sequel to 'Got tight on Absinthe last night- did knife tricks'It's the morning after, and Tommy Wants. To. Die. Alfie is a fantastic boyfriend, as per usual.





	The morning after

**Author's Note:**

> For an Anon on tumblr who wrote a very sweet message and asked for a sequel to Got tight on absinthe. And of course, I'm only happy to comply. This is literally just fluff, but God was it awesome to write. Especially after my last angst-fest. It just sort of poured out of my brain.

 

Tommy wakes up, and is quite convinced he’s died and gone to hell.

He opens his eyes slowly, wincing as the sunlight bores into them and makes bolts of pain shoot through his head. Closing them again, he tries to will the bed he is in to stop fucking rocking like a boat. Fuck, it feels like he’s been run over by a tank. 

“Good morning, love. Or perhaps mid-day, is the more correct term here.”

A familiar voice comes from somewhere close by, and he becomes even more disoriented.

“Alfie?” God, his voice sounds as if he’s been choking on gravel.

“Here to save you, as usual. Let’s get you something for that headache, eh?”

The mattress dips as someone sits down on it, and then two large hands grab his shoulders and pull him upright to lean against the headboard. Tommy groans as the entire world spins around him. A pillow is placed behind his head. 

“Am I in London?” he mutters and swallows down the bile that comes up his throat. There is no way he is vomiting. That level of humiliation will not be tolerated.

“Why don’t you open those pretty eyes of yours and take a look?”

Tommy does, and actually manages to keep them open this time. Alfie is sitting on the bed, with an annoyingly bright grin on his face and a cup of something that smells very strange in his hand. And he is in his own bedroom. He desperately tries to remember something, anything, from the night before. But he can’t put two and two together- 

“I’m in Birmingham.” 

“I know, I’m just as disappointed every time.” 

“Fuck off. What-“ he has to pause and swallow again. “What are you doing here? Is it Friday already?” 

“Sure is. Came last night, which was lucky for you. Who knows where you would've ended up otherwise?” Alfie gives him the cup. “Drink this. Tastes like absolute shit, just like everything that actually works.”

Tommy looks suspiciously at the content, but something has to be done about this head-situation, and so he takes a gulp. Yeah, tastes like shit alright. He makes a face. “Are you trying to poison me?”

“Sweetheart, you’re doing that just fine on your own.” 

God, Tommy wishes Alfie would stop smirking like that. He rubs his aching forehead and once again tries to recall what led him up to this point. Slowly, blurry images begin to take form in his head, like a fragmented puzzle. He remembers… Esme and a bottle of something hellishly strong in the Garrison. He was on the floor for a while. And yeah, Alfie was there because the mere memory of seeing him, makes him feel that same rush of happiness again. But after that it’s all just black. Fuck. 

“You don’t remember shit from last night, do you?” Alfie studies him intently, and seems to see right through his head as the gears are working. The incredibly pleased look on his face makes Tommy feel very unsettled.

“Sure I do,” he mutters and drinks the rest of the questionable content of the cup.

“Right.” Alfie raises his eyebrows. “So, how did we get home?” 

“We… walked.” 

“One of us sure did.”

Tommy sinks down a bit against the pillow, feeling a knot of dread form in the pit of his stomach. 

“So, since you actually managed to get fucking blackout drunk, I’ll tell you a few of the lovely things that occurred last night,” Alfie begins, and makes himself comfortable. Tommy wishes for death. “Well first of all, I had to carry you home, because you sure as fuck couldn’t walk on your own. Remind me to feed you more often, you weigh about three stone- but that’s a whole other thing.” Tommy opens his mouth, but Alfie just gestures for him to be quiet and continues. “Once we were home, I tried to get you to drink something besides the devil’s literal piss, and you pitched a very interesting business plan about hats for horses. While wearing my hat, which you stole. And sitting on the kitchen table. Quite the sight, I must say.” 

Tommy thinks that maybe, if he tries hard enough, he can just will himself to die right then and there. Alfie seems to find great pleasure in his misery, because he pauses artfully and draws a deep breath, before continuing the story.  

“Then, you rather adamantly asked me to fuck you on that table, which really is strange seeing as how last time you ended up with a splinter in your back. But I managed to convince you it was a bad idea, as I do with a lot of your ideas, and then I put you to bed like a gentleman. Oh, and you’ve also lost your cap. And that is yet to be found, I’m afraid. Some poor sod is going to end up cutting their fingers off.” 

Tommy once told Alfie that he never blushes, something which Alife of course promptly set out to disprove, a venture he’s been successful in quite a few times in the past months, much to Tommy’s irritation. And this is one of those times, because Tommy feels his cheeks burn. 

“Is that it? Please tell me that’s it.”

“That’s about it. And here we are, alive and well, mostly. Though you might want to know that Esme has been up and about for hours and seems shamelessly perky.” 

“So, I didn’t say anything else?” Tommy worries his bottom lip and tries desperately to search his blurry memory for any too earnest things he may have told Alfie.

“Can’t remember it all, there was a lot of talking. You are quite a bit more vocal under the influence.” 

Alfie has this look on his face that tells Tommy he is hiding something. 

Reaching for his cigarettes on the nightstand, he lights one to avoid having to talk for a moment. Alfie shifts his position in the bed to sit right next to him and wraps an arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t be embarrassed, love. I’m sure you had a great time. I had too. Sure isn’t every day I get to listen to you ramble. That’s normally my area.” 

“Fuck off,” Tommy mutters, but he makes no move to get out of the embrace. Alfie’s bicep is a rather nice pillow for an aching head. 

There is blessed silence for a while, before Alfie, to Tommy’s dismay, starts talking again. 

“I’ve been thinking: when spring comes around, we should go on a vacation. Or maybe it’ll be more of a ‘I’ll forcefully abduct you and with great fucking determination keep you from working for a few days’- thing. Somewhere nice and quiet.” 

“And where do you suggest we go?” Tommy mutters sourly and glances up at Alfie. He’s determined to be in a bad mood for at least a few hours. 

“Oh, I’ve got this rather nice property down in Brighton. Right by the sea.” 

Something flickers by in Tommy’s head. 

“Did I… did I talk about the sea yesterday?”

“Now that you mention it, yeah, it may have come up,” Alfie says with a feigned pondering tone. Tommy glares with as much intensity as he can muster with the pounding headache. 

“If you don’t stop fucking smirking, your face will get stuck like that.” 

Alfie apparently has no problem with this. “I’d tell you to stop sulking, sweetie, but you know I love it when you pout.” 

Tommy blows a cloud of smoke at him. 

“Tell you what.” Alfie pulls him closer to his side, rubbing his arm in a fond gesture. “I’ll go down and fix you something to eat, like the fucking exemplary specimen of a man I am, and you just stay right here and rest that pretty head of yours. Then, tonight in bed, you can show me just how grateful you are to have such a wonderful man in your life.” 

Alfie presses a kiss onto his forehead before getting out of bed to go downstairs, and Tommy bites the inside of his cheek to keep the scowl in place. Fuck Alfie and his fucking mouth. And his stupid smile. And his stupid handsome face. 

He takes a drag on the cigarette and lets out the smoke through pursed lips. “Make me tea, and I may consider it.”   

“Coming right up.” Alfie gives him a wink. “Maybe you could even consider trying the kitchen table again?” 

Tommy throws a pillow at him.  


End file.
